


Her

by mayalinified



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Face-Sitting, Fem Levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayalinified/pseuds/mayalinified
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started out with a talk about Erwin going down on a girl in another fic of mine then went to hell. Written in like 20 minutes at work. Please don't tell my boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her

Levi has always been better at everything than Erwin. He knows this.

She is smaller, more delicate, framed with avian-like bones and pale-turned-pink-in-the-cold skin. All over her body there is a light dusting of black hair, just straight and thin enough to be undeniably her’s. Shorter hair on her head; kept in such a way that she doesn’t have to tie it back while on expedition.

But she is stronger. She has a better center of gravity, a better speed to her movements, a longer stamina on the field. He is envious, and awestruck. He handles her with no lack of fragility, but only for the sake of reverence.

He holds her now, grip wide on her muscular arms, and thigh of his own pressed between her legs. She pants softly, her eyes murky as they look up at him. Her mouth is wet and parted, lips so plush that he’s weak to claiming them again and again and again.

“Erwin,” she whines, faint. Her hips cant against the hardness of his thigh and her toes are barely left on the ground. She looks to him again, pulling him by his lapel to lick into his mouth with another groan. They are pressed against his office door and he is still while she grinds on him, procuring her own pleasure from him. She often did. She was impatient.

He braces himself on the wall with one hand and slips the other underneath her to pick her up. Easily she wraps her legs around his waist and so begins the customary walk the couch by the window. They could easily have gone to their own rooms, waited until sundown, relied on Levi to walk herself to the other side of the room. They simply choose to go about it this way.

He deposits her gently on the cushions and falls to his knees on the wood floor beneath them. She puts a boot upon his shoulder and he goes for the laces of her pants. Nothing remains of the anxiousness that had once been present when they did this. Levi had been locked away, Erwin too afraid to coax her out.

Now she nudges his cheek with the side of her boot so he will look up at her. He smiles, and Levi’s own smirk follows quickly after.

Erwin finds her so beautiful, and most people wouldn’t. She’s not pretty like the ladies of Sina. She’s scarred and brash and has a sharp, ungraceful face. But she is beautiful. So beautiful.

“Beautiful,” he affirms as he strips her down to nothing. She doesn’t bother to fiddle with his clothes, because she’s interested, very much, in the same thing Erwin is.

Her hands fly out to his finely combed hair, gripping at the locks until they fall out of place. His lips merely brush between her legs. He closes his eyes, hums, and uses his tongue to taste. She scowls at him when he chuckles, and rubs his fingers between her, around her, inside.

“You’re already so wet for me, Levi.”

“I was humping your thigh for twenty minutes, why the fuck is that so surprising?”

Her back arches slightly as he pushes the digit further inside. His fingers are long, thick, and she is so small time after time they do this.

“Erwin,” she gasps, grabbing hold of his forearm and stilling him there. “More.”

His lips again, kissing at the tight bud of nerves that crown her. Sucking, rolling his tongue, and then another finger breaches her to spread her even further. Her heel pushes at his shoulder out of reflex and he pulls off. His eyes find hers again - half lidded staring back with no lack of affection as she moans, keens.

“M-more,” she whispers. Her hands guide his forearm to pump his fingers inside of her as she grinds her small hips down to meet them. He moans at the image of her fucking herself onto him, and the vibration of his mouth sends a hand flying into his hair to push his face down further.

He takes his free hand to her thigh and nips at the soft skin as his fingers curl. She cries out, throwing her head back until it’s only her delicate throat he can see. He wishes he could claim that, too. But he chooses his battles wisely.

“Your fingers are so fucking th-thick,” her words manage. She yanks on his hair, trying to guide him back to her.

He obliges with a smile, letting the smoothness of his teeth brush over her clit and she twitches in response. His tongue again, his mouth, the curling of his fingers coaxing her hips to fall down against him in just the right rhythm.

“You taste...,” he mumbles. “Levi…”

“Let me taste myself,” she groans. Her grip tightens and pulls his hair. “Come here. Make me taste myself.”

His tongue finds hers through her slack open mouth. She breathes uneven, licking at his tongue so sweetly. Timid in a way, and so unlike her that he’s shaking in her arms at the effort not to take her there. He’s so close. His clothed erection is pressed right against her. He can feel her, wet from his mouth and wet from how ready she is, and she arches up just enough to rub herself right against him.

Momentarily, his arms falter, and he moans in surprise. Levi only laughs, deep in her chest.

“Easy,” she cautions.

“I want you,” he replies. His eyes find hers and their foreheads press against one anothers'. They’re both sweating now, their bangs mingling in the dampness. She quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

He ends up on the floor again and she’s straddling him, but not in the way she expects to be. He grips roughly at the flesh of her ass, with the callouses and cuts sundering her soft skin. His hands guide her forward until she’s situated over his face. She looks down with pretty lips parted, nothing to say for once.

The first swipe of his tongue is what breaks that silence. Her hips stutter, head tipping back as a moan bursts from her chest. Her hands find his hair again and she seats herself, grinding her hips down against his tongue, grinding again, and again.

He digs his nails into her back, into the dimples above her ass, into the divots of her shoulder blades. He encourages her to ride him, presses her forward until his nose rubs against her clit, until he can slip his tongue inside of her and she can swivel her hips to test the feel.

He moans just as loud as she does, though his are too muffled to be heard as much as they’re clearly felt. Each sound sends her body into a frenzy and the goosebumps on her skin are telling of how good she feels.

His hands find her breasts finally, playing with her nipples just the way she likes. Large hands against the petite chest she’s been graced with, a thumb and forefinger pinching at the darker parts of her flesh.

“Oh fuck, Erwin,” she finally manages to say. Her hands fly back to his trousers, trying to find the laces. “God your fucking mouth.”

But he catches her wrists and pulls them back, and he holds them in his rough grip to force her deeper seated onto his mouth. His eyes are up towards her face, watching, commanding, adoring. She looks down and she is lost somewhere. She’s with him and she’s not, present and vacant, and she slips back and forth between the two as she comes closer and closer.

He loves her like this. He loves her in all ways, but he loves the look she carries when she tries to fight away her own orgasm. It’s a wonder why she tries to hold it off, why she insists on keeping control. It’s a gift to see that control fractured under his own hands, his mouth. Or over, in some cases it seems.

She’s panting his name as she gets closer. The sounds starts as a warning, turns quickly to a prayer, and he doubles his efforts until his name isn’t really discernible through the noises she makes.

When she comes she bends as though she might break. Her entire body arches, back bending until her hands try desperately to find purchase on his hips. She is silent at first - no sound can break past the tightness of her throat, the tension of her body. Then she sobs.

He lets her finish, lets her ride him until she’s satisfied, and then he pulls her body, pliant, to his. She curls against him, seeking him out until she can comply to each shape she finds beneath her. Her head tucks under his chin, her legs dipping between his, hip dangling onto the floor. He holds her tight, and she’s shaking, and he’s smiling into her hair.

  
“Good?” he asks triumphantly.

“Like you even have to ask,” she scoffs. Her voice betrays her, and he can tell she’s still trying to find her way back to herself.

“Come taste yourself again,” he smirks. She obeys, her parted lips find his in the darkness - somehow the sun had set in the time that past and now they were left without lamplight in the cold. They kiss slowly, he lets her relish in the taste, he lets himself smile against her mouth.

“I’ll give you a moment,” he says.

Her hands slide down his stomach, teasing the buttons of his shirt open as they pass.

“I don’t need a moment.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm at infinitygauntlets on tumblr. Yeehaw.


End file.
